


Hollow

by TsarinaTorment



Series: Sensory Sunday [6]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Broken Bones, Concussions, Gen, Hah I have the full set in this series now!, Hurt John, Hurt Scott, Impalement, Injury, John Whump, Night Hike, Scott Whump, SensorySunday, Snakes, Sneaking Out, Teenagers, Tracy Island is dangerous at night, pre-International Rescue, snake bite - Freeform, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarinaTorment/pseuds/TsarinaTorment
Summary: Two teenagers and a night hike in the middle of nowhere is a recipe for disaster. When trouble strikes the clock starts ticking, but there's no International Rescue around to pull off a miracle.
Relationships: Scott Tracy & John Tracy
Series: Sensory Sunday [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778035
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	1. I - John

His hip hit something and he hissed, stumbling away from it. Who put a – a what, table? Probably a table. Who put a table right there?

"Shh!" his brother hissed quietly. He bit back a remark and instead gingerly picked his way around the obstacle. A light would be useful for avoiding errant furniture, but unfortunately a light would also ruin his night vision and therefore the entire reason for this little excursion.

Why hadn't Scott talked him out of it? This whole thing _screamed_ "irresponsible and dangerous", two things Scott never let any of them do, but no, big brother had barged into his room after hearing him stub his toe on the edge of his bed, and instead of telling him it was a stupid idea – with a reminder that Dad had forbidden it, to boot – he'd decided that he'd go with him.

Dad was going to have an absolute fit if he found his two eldest sons sneaking around the villa at night. He'd go apoplectic if he realised they were planning on doing the very same night time excursion he'd vetoed scant hours earlier when John had approached him about it.

"No, John," he'd said, quite firmly. "The island is dangerous. Any star gazing is to be done from the villa, and the villa _only_."

But the villa was built into the volcanic peak of the mountain; just because the view ahead from the balcony was fantastic did not mean the rest of the night sky could be seen from it. John had already mapped everything he could see with both the naked eye and his portable telescope from the villa – he wanted the rest of the night sky.

Either Scott had gained a sudden appreciation for the stars, or he had some other reason for wanting to explore the island at night, but he'd taken one look at the backpack John failed to hide in time and declared that he was coming too.

The more John thought about it, the more it seemed like a bad idea. He considered telling Scott that he'd changed his mind, that he didn't want to go stargazing the other side of the peaks, but every time he opened his mouth he remembered the allure of the as-yet-unseen stars.

_Just a short trip_ , he promised himself, stumbling over something else – a box, maybe. They were still unpacking, after all. Scott's strong hands caught him and his big brother guided him around the other obstacles lurking in the dark.

"Careful," he warned under his breath, barely audible over the distant sound of the sea. It reminded John of the times he'd climbed onto the roof to find his brother already there, looking at him as if to say _what took you so long?_

Of _course_ – Scott had no real appreciation for the stars, not like John and Alan and once upon a time Mom, preferring the reflected light of the full moon to the further celestial intrigues, but what he _did_ have was the unending patience of an eldest brother, coupled with a vicious protective streak that had only increased after they'd lost Mom. He knew them better than Dad did, at times better than they knew themselves; all he needed to have done was overhear John's rejected request to know that he was going to sneak out regardless of paternal permission.

Come of think of it, he'd already been wearing his outdoor shoes when he'd intruded on John's bedroom.

The moon was new, making it an ideal night to gaze at the stars. Not a single cloud in the sky meant that there was a curtain of glittering diamonds above them, pure and untainted by light pollution. It was the clearest John had ever seen them from Earth, and his doubts disappeared. The conditions were too perfect to waste.

"Mind the pool," Scott warned as they stepped out onto the patio area. John stayed well over to one side, having no interest in a late-night swim. Scott walked next to him, a physical barrier between them, until they found a narrow path leading away from the villa and into the darkness. Well, Scott found it; John hadn't known it was there, and let his brother guide him along.

Below them, water lapped calmly at the island. It was a loud sound in the otherwise dead of night, not even a breeze to stir the leaves of the jungle Dad had firmly told them they were not to enter. One day it would be the sound of home, a background noise that no longer registered, but they hadn't lived on the island – or near any stretch of water – long enough for that to happen, yet.

John wasn't sure he ever would. The villa on the island – Tracy Island, Dad had named it, somewhat unimaginatively – was to be their forever home, but also a base of operations. He cast his gaze up above him, where the stars shone brightly. _His_ home would be up there; Dad had promised that as soon as he finished his astronaut training the space station currently under construction would be his. There was no water in space, a fact that mystified and bewildered his squid of a younger brother.

Lost in his thoughts, head facing up at the stars, he didn't notice the tree root creeping across the path until his foot caught it. He fell forward with a thud, a small cry of pain escaping him, and immediately Scott was there, checking him over thoroughly.

"I'm okay," he assured him, rolling his ankle. A minor twinge but nothing to worry about; his boots were designed for the terrain.

"Are you sure?" Scott pressed. "Sit down and let me-"

"It's _fine_ , Scott," he protested, pulling himself to his feet and sparing a moment to be thankful his bag hadn't taken any of the impact; his portable telescope in its case would still be safe.

"If you're sure," Scott said dubiously, and John sighed, taking a cautious step forward. "We can do this another time."

"That would mean sneaking back in without being caught tonight and then sneaking out _again_ on another day," John pointed out. "And the weather tonight is perfect."

"That it is," Scott agreed, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Okay then, onwards it is. Watch your feet not the stars this time, okay? They can wait until we get there. Wherever 'there' is."

John didn't know where 'there' was, either. He'd never been outside of the villa's immediate vicinity, on Dad's orders. Technically, none of them should have been, but Scott was navigating the path with a little too much ease for it to be his first venture out.

Big brother hadn't _completely_ outgrown his own rebellious stage, huh? Still, it made John feel a little more secure in their adventure if the terrain was already known to Scott. Scott would never let him come out here if it was dangerous.

"Somewhere I can see the other stars," he shrugged. "But not too far from the villa, or we won't be back by dawn."

"And then Dad will have both our hides," Scott finished.

" _Your_ hide, big brother," John corrected. "You're supposed to be looking after me."

"And you're supposed to be the sensible one," Scott retorted. "He'll know it was your idea."

"And he'll know that you didn't stop me- _eeeeeeeeee_!" Something gave way under John's foot and he lurched sideways, out of Scott's light hold. "Scott!"

"John!" Scott snatched for him, catching his wrist at the same moment John realised there was no longer _anything_ beneath his feet. " _John!_ "

In the pitch dark, John couldn't see anything. Scott had his right wrist clutched tightly, the only thing keeping him from dropping who knew how far. The roar of the ocean was loud in his ears – was he dangling off of a cliff directly above the suddenly unnerving ocean or was his mind playing tricks on him?

With his free hand he reached upwards, trying to find something else to hold onto so he could pull himself up. Something. Anything.

"John!"

Scott's hand was sweaty. Too sweaty. John could feel himself slipping and lunged upwards, trying to grab Scott's arm with his other hand.

"Scott!" he gasped as he missed, fingernails scrabbling at something soft and giving but failing to get a purchase.

They were heel to palm now, and the slide didn't slow at all. Palm to palm, fingers to fingers. Fingers to-

"JOHN!"

-air.


	2. II - Scott

No. This couldn't be happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. It was supposed to be a fun night excursion; he'd explored these paths behind Dad's back since the day they first arrived on the island. It should have been _safe_.

It was too dark too see, but Scott heard the falling scream of his brother and the sickening _thud_ that signified a bad landing all the more clearly for it. He was supposed to be _protecting_ John, making sure he didn't stroll off all alone and fall foul of dangers the younger teenager had yet to learn. If he hadn't been here, would John have found this path? Would John have been able to get any further than the pool?

This was all his fault.

"John!" he shouted again. There was no answer, and his heart stopped. "John! Answer me!"

Silence.

It was stupid, monumentally so. He didn't even have a torch – _some Rescue Scout that makes you_ – and John had been carrying the bag with what gear he'd deemed necessary for the night. That same bag was down with his brother, wherever he'd landed, so with nothing more than the light of the stars and his own sweaty palms, he lowered himself down the side. Dirt cascaded past him, getting in his face and making him cough, as he scrabbled down what seemed to be an almost vertical bank. Scott was tall, and the fact that he couldn't reach the bottom with his feet didn't bode well.

"John?" he called again, his voice cracking. His arms were shaking, not because he couldn't hold himself up, but because he was scared. Terrified of what he'd find, terrified that John was seriously injured or worse. _You should have gone for help_ , he realised, but he was committed now. And he couldn't abandon John. Not now, not ever. "John, I'm coming!"

Almost blind, the starlight not strong enough to illuminate the earthen cliff he was scrabbling down, Scott had no warning when his hand landed on something not-dirt. Smooth, cool, _moving._

A sharp pain in his hand made him cry out, instinct pulling it back from whatever had caused it. Unfortunately, that instinct threw him off balance and he found himself falling backwards, parting company with the cliff despite desperate scrabbles to the contrary. Dirt lodged beneath his fingernails but did nothing to slow his fall.

He opened his eyes to find he was lying on his back with no recollection of landing. _Ow_. His back didn't appear to be particularly pleased with taking the brunt of the fall, to say nothing of the hand that felt like it was on _fire_.

_Ow_.

_John_. With a flash, he remembered why he'd been climbing in the pitch dark and threw his not-burning hand out to try and push himself up.

"Don't move!" Never had Scott been so relieved to hear his brother's voice, even if John sounded both in pain and absolutely terrified.

"John!" He ignored the order in favour of looking around, getting his hand under him enough to get some leverage. "Are you- _aaaaaaaargh!_ " Forget the hand, something down near his right hip _killed_.

" _Don't move,_ " John repeated, more insistently. It sounded like his voice was coming from a little bit above him, and Scott squinted up.

"Where are you?" he asked, gasping as an unconscious shift agitated the area. "Are you hurt? Why didn't you answer me earlier?"

"I landed on a dirt ledge about a foot above you," John told him. "I must have blacked out for a few minutes, sorry."

" _Are you hurt?_ " Scott repeated, taking a deep breath before trying to sit up again. _Hell_ , that hurt.

"Not as bad as you!" John snapped. " _Stop moving!_ "

"John-"

"Take a look at yourself before you start fretting about me," John cut him off. " _Without_ moving."

Beneath the waspish snap, there was something else in his voice. Something Scott recognised as badly-concealed terror. Taking another breath, he looked down the length of his body, only for something to lodge itself in his throat.

No. No, no, no. He extended a trembling hand – not the one that hurt, the one that… _oh hell he'd been bitten_. Forgetting the sight in front of him for a moment, his mind dredged up recollections of smooth, cool, _moving_ , pain.

A snake.

Dad had warned him, warned them all. _There're some dangerous animals on this island, boys. Stay near the villa._ Scott had ignored the warning – what could be _that_ dangerous?

The pain in his left hand gave him a pretty good idea.

His breathing sped up; he didn't know much about snakes, but he _did_ know that if they bit they were probably venomous, so he probably had who-knew-how-much venom coursing through his blood and what if it was fatal? A jolt of pain shot through him from his hip, dragging his attention to the _other_ problem.

A spur of something – rock, tree, he couldn't tell – was protruding directly upwards from the area of his hip. No vital organs in that particular part of the body, thank goodness, but tentative exploration with his right hand told him that the pain was not his imagination, and that whatever it was, it _did_ go straight through him.

Impaled by something unknown and bitten by an equally unknown snake. Beads of perspiration formed on his brow, rolling down the side of his face. This… this was bad.

"John?" he called out, cursing himself for sounding so breathless. "How badly are you hurt?" They needed to be together; Scott didn't _want_ to move, was vaguely aware that _bleeding to death_ was a clear possibility if he somehow got himself free of the strut keeping him pinned, but if John needed him-

"Not as bad as you," John repeated, and he made an irritated noise. "Probably some level of concussion, and I'm fairly sure there's a couple of broken bones, but I'm not bleeding out." The _unlike you_ was left unsaid but hung in the air between them. "I'm not sure I could get to you, though."

Scott groaned, and was appalled to find that his eyes were moist.

"Then I'll-"

"Don't you dare," John interrupted. "I can see you well enough to know you can't move; you'll kill yourself if you try."

"I'm dead if I _don't_ try," he muttered, hissing as the pain in his hand increased in intensity.

" _What_?" John demanded, voice sounding strangled, and Scott bit back a curse. He hadn't meant for him to hear that.

"Nothing."

"That was _not_ nothing," John rebuked. "Aside from the obvious, what else is wrong?"

"Nothing you can do anything about," Scott admitted. "Stay put; I'm-" he screamed as he tried to move, the stake unrelenting.

"Scott!"

Scott panted, trying to suck in air but it just wasn't coming. That didn't matter – he had to move, had to get to John.

"Scott, _please_." It was the desperation in his voice that did it, freezing Scott in place. "Please, don't move. As long as you stay still, it'll keep plugging the wound and you won't bleed out before someone comes looking for us."

John wielded logic like a weapon – always had done, always would do. It went against every core instinct he had to protect his younger brothers, but John was right. Still...

"They won't be looking for us for a few hours," Scott pointed out. "Everyone's in bed asleep and no-one knows we're not."

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Sneak out, do some exploring, help John with his starmapping. Scott had never been scared of the dark before, not like John. John who still needed his beloved stars to light up the night sky, or a lamp in a lightless room.

Something about lying helpless with an unidentified thing through his hip and snake venom coursing through his blood made him long for the warmth of the sun. He didn't want to die. Not here, not now.

Those thoughts couldn't be vocalised; John was in earshot, and he'd already scared him enough with a loose tongue.

"At least we can see the stars," he said instead. Above him, the night sky looked just the same as it had when they'd crept out, uncaring of their plight.

"You're trying to distract me," John said flatly. Scott winced; admittedly not his best attempt. "Scott, what did you mean you'll be dead anyway? _Tell me,_ or I'll go mad thinking of all the possibilities."

Scott groaned again, then blinked as he realised the pain in his hand was easing. That was a good thing… right?

"It's fine," he said. "Something bit me, but it can't have been venomous because it's stopped hurting."

John didn't reply, and he craned his neck to look upwards without jostling the rest of his body.

"John?"

"That's not a good thing, Scott," his younger brother said quietly. "I heard Gordon talking to Alan the other day. He'd been reading about the sorts of creatures on the island; apparently if it stops hurting that's just the neurotoxins. It still hurts but your brain can't register the pain anymore."

Scott felt sick.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he said, although he didn't believe a word he was saying. That didn't matter; it was _John_ that had to believe it. "I'll be fine." The noise he got in response wasn't a convinced one. "We'll be fine."

He glared up at the uncaring stars, willing the dark to recede so he could _see_ John, and more importantly Dad could come and find them. He had no doubt that Dad would, he was just scared what state they'd be in when that time came.

Injured and unable to move, with a younger brother in a similar state, dawn felt a very long way away.


	3. III - Gordon

The ocean lapped against the rocks far below them, but in the silence of the night it was easily audible even at the upper layers of the villa. The gentle sound of water nudging the island was a peaceful one, calm and serene under a blanket of stars and the slightest rustle of wind through the trees. Gordon should have been relaxed, lulled into deep security and slumber by the song of his favourite thing on the planet.

He wasn't. A dream he didn't remember had been cut off abruptly by a sensation of dread, and amber eyes had snapped open to stare at the ceiling in something bordering on fright. There was no reason for his sudden fear – the shadows in his room, while not yet fully familiar, were still and unmoving. He'd never been afraid of the dark. The sounds of the world assured him that everything was fine. Lapping waves and whispering leaves spoke of peace and harmony. Everything was right with the world.

Everything except the tingling of his spine, a ghostly brush of _something_ against the back of his neck. They were barely there, a touch too light to be real, but Gordon curled up under his covers and clenched his eyes shut, begging the strangeness to _stop_.

It didn't. No matter how much he willed the strange feelings away, told them to leave him alone and let him _sleep_ , they didn't. Burrowing down under blankets, using them like a towel to rub his back, was equally futile and with a small whine he made a controlled tumble out of bed. He didn't know what time it was, only that it was dark and too early to be allowed in the pool, but all thoughts of attempting to get back to sleep were chased away by the persistent prickling.

Gordon was a big boy, now. He wasn't _Alan_ , who ran crying to the nearest big brother at the slightest provocation – and sometimes not even that – for protection and gentle reassurances. He'd grown out of that years ago. It was for that reason that when he crept out of his own bedroom, vainly hoping the prickling would stay _in_ it and therefore get left behind, he didn't immediately make a beeline for the closest door.

Virgil was his go-to brother. Sure, he had Scott and John, but John wasn't one for comforting and Scott was too likely to mother him. Virgil would be ready with a big warm hug and a smile, and then everything was fine again. He should go to Virgil.

He passed Virgil's door without even slowing. He was a big boy now, he didn't _need_ smothering, but his feet took him straight past John's room and came to a stop outside Scott's. Sometimes, something was sufficiently weird enough to need the big guns, in this case an overprotective big brother. Besides, it was the middle of the night. Virgil would be asleep; Gordon wasn't sure he'd ever seen Scott sleep. He'd always been awake, no matter what time of day or night.

A light sleeper, like Gordon himself. One of the things they had in common – the almost silent sound of his door opening would always rouse Scott, and it was with the knowledge that he wouldn't be alone with this creepy crawling on his back that he nudged it open, slipping through the crack and heading straight for Scott's bed.

Scott wasn't there.

The tingling of his spine increased, now a ghostly version of pins and needles. Why wasn't Scott in bed? It was the middle of the night, he should be in bed! He padded over to the ensuite, just in case Scott was in there, and knocked lightly on the door. Slightly ajar, it opened wider at the slight pressure and he flinched back, waiting for Scott to chew him out for invasion of privacy.

He didn't. The ensuite was as empty as the bedroom, and Gordon hopped from foot to foot, looking around for a clue as to his big brother's location. In the night time gloom, he didn't see anything, but the thought occurred to him that maybe Scott had gone for a drink – or a midnight snack.

He should probably wait for him in his room, but the prickling in his back was still there and Gordon wanted it to go away sooner rather than later. Scott had to be in the kitchen, so Gordon would go to the kitchen. Satisfied with his logic, he padded out of Scott's room, only to collide with a tall figure.

"Oof!" the tall figure said. "Sco- _Gordon_ , is that you?"

"Dad?" Gordon asked, peering up at him. "Why are you up?"

"I should be asking you that, young man," his Dad said. "What are you doing out of bed and coming out of Scott's room in the early hours of the morning?"

Gordon shuffled from foot to foot again.

"Was looking for Scott," he admitted, looking at the floor. "But he's not here."

"What do you mean, he's not here?" his Dad demanded, stepping past Gordon to push Scott's door wide open again.

"I thought maybe he was getting a drink," Gordon hurried to add, but Dad shook his head and he wilted.

"I've just come from the kitchen, Gordon," he said. "Your brother isn't there." Gordon frowned.

"Then where is he?" he asked, shuddering a little as the ghostly pins and needles got worse.

"Go back to bed," his Dad told him. "I'll see if John knows." Gordon didn't want to go to bed. Not when Scott wasn't in his room or downstairs in the kitchen, and definitely not while his spine was being jabbed with imaginary thistles. He peered around his Dad as the man pushed John's door open, and his eyes widened when he realised John wasn't in his bed either.

His Dad made a noise that sounded very angry – the same grumble under his breath when Gordon got another detention that meant he was going to be grounded for a week.

"Dad?" he asked quietly, and the man looked at him.

"Go back to bed, Gordon," he ordered. "It seems that your older brothers have decided to disobey me." Gordon knew when to push and when to leave well enough alone. Dad was not happy and if he didn't do as he was told, he'd get in trouble, too.

But what had Scott and John done?

He slunk back to his own room, but his back was still prickly and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep so he stood by the door and listened. As soon as he heard Dad's footsteps recede, going back down the stairs he slipped out of his room again and into the room next door, where he should have gone all along, even if Virgil would be grumpy about being woken.

Bizarrely, Virgil was already awake, standing by his window and looking out at the stars. Caught by surprise, Gordon stumbled and Virgil was there, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him over to his bed.

"Bad dream?" he asked sympathetically. Gordon shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't sleep." He couldn't find a way to say that his back had pins and needles without actually _having_ pins and needles, but Virgil didn't ask questions, just pulled him into a hug.

"Me neither," Virgil told him. "Something feels… off. I don't know what, but I don't like it."

"Scott and John aren't in their rooms," Gordon volunteered. "Dad's angry about it. Said they disobeyed him."

"Oh," Virgil said, furrowing his brow as he thought. "They must have gone stargazing," he concluded after a moment. "Dad said John couldn't but Scott probably took him anyway." He sighed and pulled Gordon into a tight bear hug, which he snuggled into gratefully. "I'm sure they'll be back soon." His voice was tight and his grip on Gordon even tighter.

Gordon was eleven, not stupid.

"We should look for them," he said. Virgil shook his head.

"It's too dangerous," he said, even though it was clear he wanted to go. "Dad told us not to leave the complex." Gordon squinted up at him.

"You're worried," he pointed out and Virgil sighed.

"Of course I am," he said. "But Scott and John can look after themselves and until they get back I've got to look after _you_ , squirt."

" _Alan_ 's the squirt," Gordon huffed, but despite his protest he curled up even closer to Virgil. "We'll wait up," he decided. "Then once Dad's finished yelling we can yell, too."

Virgil's chuckle was dry and weak, but it was still a chuckle.

"That sounds like a plan," he agreed.


	4. IV - Kyrano

He had always been a light sleeper, and the frantic pounding of feet on the stairs followed by an equally panicked rapping on his bedroom door was more than enough to pull Kyrano from his sleep. Instantly alert in the dark room, he slipped from his bed and opened the door to reveal a dishevelled Jeff Tracy.

"What is it, Mr Tracy?" he asked, forgoing the usual customary greeting of his employer. The billionaire, despite an occasional bizarre dress sense, never let himself appear so outwardly distressed. Add in that the visit had occurred in the witching hour, and Kyrano had no doubt that something was very wrong indeed.

"Scott and John are missing," Mr Tracy told him. "I've searched the entire villa; they must have gone out." The boys had yet to realise that sound travelled very well in their new home – Kyrano may have been tending to his herb garden, but John's denied request for a stargazing trip had not been particularly quiet. From the look in his employer's eyes, Mr Tracy believed that the two boys had gone to do so regardless. Kyrano didn't disagree.

"I will be ready in one minute," he promised, retreating back into his room to shrug on outdoor clothes and boots over his nightwear. "Do you have everything?" Mr Tracy hesitated, and Kyrano turned to the backpack he kept stocked for his explorations of the terrain. "Fetch your gear, Mr Tracy. I will meet you by the pool."

He didn't need to look up to know that Mr Tracy had gone; even panicked and terrified for his sons, the man had a presence that was immediately notable when it left. The fact that his steps on the stairs weren't at all quiet simply confirmed the fact.

Without Mr Tracy standing in front of him, looking to him to be the security, Kyrano let his mask fall for a moment, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself. The news that the two teenage boys – Scott considered himself a man, but nineteen was still too soon for Kyrano to consider him as such – were missing and presumably wandering around the island in the middle of the night made him afraid, too. He was fond of all of Mr Tracy's boys. Perhaps they were not quite so close that they were like his own sons, but honorary nephews would not be inaccurate.

He was aware of Scott's little forays away from the villa. The teenager might have plenty of experience sneaking out from under his father's nose, and perhaps Kyrano should have informed Mr Tracy that his eldest son was disobeying him, but evading Kyrano was a skill Scott had yet to pick up. He'd trailed the boy several times, watching him learn the paths and tracks in the immediate vicinity of the villa. By this point, he was confident that Scott could handle himself as long as he remained close.

However, it was gone midnight and if they were going stargazing it was highly unlikely they'd want to ruin their night vision with something as basic as torches. Kyrano feared that Scott might have got overconfident, no matter how much he loved and tried to protect his brothers. It was with that fear – the fear that Scott had found himself lulled into a false sense of security in what was a very dangerous terrain for the unwary – riding in his heart that he joined the Tracy patriarch on the patio area outside the villa.

"Where would they have gone?" Mr Tracy asked. "The boys don't know the paths here yet, and there's only two of us. We can't search them all!"

"On the contrary, Mr Tracy, Scott has been familiarising himself with the immediate vicinity," Kyrano admitted, not facing his employer as the other man bristled. "In particular, he appears to favour two routes, and in the dark he will have taken one he believes he knows well, especially if one of his brothers is with him."

"Scott is grounded for _life_ when I find him," Mr Tracy grumbled darkly. "I expressively _told_ him it was too dangerous."

"Young men often take that as a challenge," Kyrano couldn't help but observe, before hurriedly moving on to the task at hand before Mr Tracy addressed the fact that he'd known about the disobedient explorations. "Scott's preferred routes are those two-" he gestured at them. "Which one would you like to take, Mr Tracy?"

"This one," the other man said, heading over to the nearer of the two. Kyrano obediently moved to the other. "Keep in touch, Kyrano. If you find them, tell me immediately."

"Yes, Mr Tracy." There was no point lingering any longer; turning on his torch – night vision was only so useful, and the stars held no appeal to him tonight – he progressed down the path, hearing Mr Tracy do the same on the other path.

No doubt Mr Tracy had already done so, but as he walked, Kyrano tried first Scott's phone, and then John's. Neither boy answered, and when he switched to tracking their GPS signals he found both icons firmly in their bedrooms. Presumably, they hadn't wanted to be tracked and had taken precautions to prevent their father discovering their little escapade. Clever, but infuriating from a security point of view, and Kyrano resolved to have a quiet word with the pair of them about that. What if they got into trouble? The island might be their home and otherwise uninhabited by humans, but it was also dangerous.

If he was attempting to track any of the other three, it would be much easier. The youngest two would be talking, and in the midnight air the sound would travel. Even Virgil could be drawn into a quiet conversation. John liked absolute silence when studying the sky, and despite his capability of being just as loud as his youngest brothers, Scott could and would respect that, simply sitting in silence alongside John for hours on end.

It never failed to amaze Kyrano when he saw the brothers together. With no full brother of his own, and a half brother he had never seen eye-to-eye with, their easy relationship with each other was breathtakingly precious. He was beyond grateful to Mr Tracy for providing that example to Tanusha and inviting her into the family as he had. She would never grow up with a bully son of a mistress wailing about unfair inheritance because he was older but not considered legitimate. Instead, she would grow up with five brothers to protect her and be protected by her in turn. It was the greatest gift Mr Tracy could ever had given him.

His thankful musings were cut off by a faint shout. He paused in his tracks, shining the torch light in the approximate direction of the noise. It couldn't be Mr Tracy; it was the wrong direction for that. Only two other people were out and about, and he cautiously advanced to find the ground falling away suddenly – a recent fall of earth, receding the lip of the track just far enough for it to be in the direct path of feet, especially if they were walking two abreast.

Filled with a sense of dread, he approached the edge as much as he dared and shined the torch down over it, leaning over tentatively to catch sight of whatever was illuminated.

Some twenty feet below was the crumpled form of a boy. He wasn't moving, and the torch highlighted a shock of flame-coloured hair.

John.

Where was Scott? He moved the torch, surveying the area around John, until he found another lip barely past him – more or less passing directly beneath his head. The figure the light found wasn't crumpled up like John's, but was equally unmoving. From his perch on top of the cliff, he couldn't see what injuries they had sustained, but if they'd both fallen twenty feet, Kyrano found himself worried.

"Scott!" he called. "John!" At least one of them had to be conscious if they'd made a noise moments earlier.

"'rano?" It was quiet and filled with pain, but that was John's voice. "-at oo?"

"I'm coming down to you now!" he confirmed. "Is Scott conscious?"

"-t sure," John called back. "-t awkin."

"Keep talking to him!" Kyrano instructed. "I'll be with you shortly!" He pulled out his phone and called Mr Tracy.

"Kyr-"

"I've found them, Mr Tracy," he said. "Follow the path I took."

"Are they alright?" the other man demanded. Kyrano held in a sigh, but shook his head despite knowing his employer couldn't see him.

"They appear to have fallen off the path," he reported. "John is conscious and responding to me, but Scott is not. I will need assistance getting them back to the villa."

"I'm on my way."

Neither man bothered with pleasantries, hanging up without another word. It would take Mr Tracy several minutes to reach him, and Kyrano refused to wait. Retrieving some sturdy rope from his pack, he secured it to a tree before fashioning a harness to abseil down the unstable cliff. It wasn't ideal, but it sufficed in an emergency, which this definitely qualified as.

A minute later, he was crouched next to John, torch highlighting clumps of dark red in his otherwise bright hair. Turquoise eyes were glazed and struggling to concentrate on him, but Kyrano was simply thankful the boy hadn't hit his head harder, even if he seemed to have broken most of the bones in his body.

Another foot or so below them, it turned out that Scott was shifting slightly in a movement Kyrano could only describe as a muted writhing. Beyond concerned, he dropped down next to him, eyeing the pool of blood beneath him and the foliage protruding from somewhere around his hip with horror. "Scott?"

Despite the movement his eyes were closed and there was no answer. Kyrano reached for the first aid kit he carried, and prayed it would be enough.

"Please hurry, Mr Tracy."


	5. V - Jeff

It was inadvisable to run along the island's paths, especially in the dark – and even if you had a high-powered torch – but Jeff's heart was in his mouth and all the breath had been stolen from his lungs by Kyrano's short but devastating call.

_They appear to have fallen._ How far? How badly were his children hurt? _John is conscious and responding_. A cause for relief. _Scott is not_. Scott wasn't what? Conscious? Responding? Either? _I will need assistance_. Kyrano never needed help.

Jeff tore along the path, blindly dodging past tree roots and branches reaching out to ensnare him. Kyrano needed him. _His boys_ needed him. Why oh why hadn't he been firmer, why had he assumed John wouldn't find another way to get what he wanted? Was he really so distant from his sons nowadays that he didn't realise just saying "no" and "it's too dangerous" would stop a teenager on the cusp of adulthood from doing what he wanted?

He didn't find the rope Kyrano had tied to the tree so much as almost trip over it, catching himself on the tree it was tied to at the last second to avoid sharing his sons' misfortune.

"Kyrano?" he called, panting and heaving for air with frozen lungs. "Scott? John?"

"Down here, Mr Tracy!" Kyrano called back, his voice drifting from below. "Use the rope." Jeff shone the torch in the direction of his voice and shuddered at the sight of the fresh landslip, shearing away part of the path. Creeping towards it, he watched as the light picked up first a slumped form with Lucille's distinctive ginger hair, and then another two a little further away. Kyrano was bent over Scott, hiding him from view.

His hands burned as he slung himself down to the ledge, too fast and rubbing his hands, but he didn't notice the discomfort as he sank down next to John, reaching out with trembling fingers to brush dishevelled red hair back from his face. Clouded turquoise eyes sluggishly followed the movement.

"Da'?"

"I'm here, John," he assured his second eldest. He looked nothing like the confident and stubborn teenager Jeff had found himself in a heated debate with several hours earlier, and much more like the pale waif he'd been as a young child. "Dad's here."

"'m srree," he slurred, and Jeff hushed him, continuing to card his hand through ginger locks – finding the unmistakable stickiness of blood as he did so.

"We'll talk about that later," he said. "Right now I'm just glad you're okay." John wasn't okay by ordinary standards, shivering slightly despite the warm air – _shock_ – and his long limbs bent at awkward angles, but he was alive.

"Sc't…" John mumbled, and Jeff glanced over to where Kyrano was still hunched over his eldest, reassurances on the tip of his tongue.

They died unspoken. In the light of his and Kyrano's torches, he could see what he had missed with his cursory glance. Scott was laid on his back, limp as a ragdoll, but it was the gradually growing pool of blood and the _stake_ protruding from his hip that chilled him to the core.

He couldn't abandon John, not when his second son was in shock and pain, but the bloodless face of his eldest called to him.

_Lucy, don't take our boy yet,_ he begged his wife silently. Losing Scott – head of the pack, a once tiny and unexpected bundle of joy that melted his heart with bright blue eyes and deep dimples even as he voiced his displeasure at leaving the dark, safe confines of his mother to be thrust into the bright wide world – was unthinkable. He _needed_ Scott. He needed _all_ of his boys. All five of them.

"Kyrano," he started, faltering. How did one ask _is my son still breathing_? _Is he still with us or has he gone to join his mother in the stars?_

"He is still with us, Mr Tracy," the smaller man assured him, raising his head. Green eyes locked with his. "If you could assist me?" Jeff looked down at John, turquoise eyes half lidded, and hesitated. "John's life is in no danger," Kyrano told him, and it was the implied _but Scott's is_ that got him moving, leaving John's side with one last brush of his blood-matted hair to drop down the final foot to his eldest's side.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, catching sight of Scott's left hand and blanching. Swollen and dribbling blood, he knew enough about the island's wildlife to know it was not just the terrain his son had fallen foul of.

"Keep him still," Kyrano said. "I will need to cut him free from this branch before the bleeding can be staunched." Jeff nodded numbly, trembling hands finding Scott's shoulders and holding onto them securely.

"The snake venom?" he asked.

"I have given him a generic antivenom to slow the spread," Kyrano said as the noise of knife meeting wood began. "Until I can determine which snake it was, there is little more to be done for it."

Scott groaned suddenly, his head rolling to rest the other way as his arms trembled and shoulders strained. At loath to hurt him, but with enough experience to know that if he injured himself further his chances of survival would drop, Jeff increased his grip, pinning his eldest to the ground.

"Easy, Scott," he soothed, wincing at a sharp cry of pain. "Easy. It's just me and Kyrano, you hear me? Dad's here. Just hold on, son. We'll get you home." Scott wasn't pacified by his words at all, weakly thrashing to escape the pain as Jeff exerted as much strength as he dared to keep him still, talking to his son all the while as his heart broke.

It felt like an age before Kyrano sat back. "I have done all I can here," he said. "We will need to get them back to the villa for further treatment."

With his wound no longer being agitated, Scott had sunk back down into apparent unconsciousness, white as death but still breathing. Jeff cautiously released him, cupping his pale cheek as he turned to face the other man.

"We can't get either of them back up to the path," he said, and Kyrano nodded.

"I know another route we can take, Mr Tracy," he said. "We will have to be careful, but it should not take too long to return." It was Jeff's turn to nod, looking back at Scott and then up at John, whose eyes were almost closed but undeniably watching them. From his elevated position, he would have been able to watch Scott bleeding out the entire time. "I believe you should take Master Scott," the other man continued, sparing Jeff the agony of choice.

If it were possible, he'd carry both of his boys, but even if they weren't both taking after him in height, the last time he'd been able to carry two sleeping sons at once was when they were in diapers. As it was, he took a deep breath and with Kyrano's help scooped his eldest son into his arms, mindful of the bit of tree still stuck through his hip. Kyrano had cropped it as short as possible before wrapping bandaging around the area to stem the flow of blood, but it was still there, staunching what was likely a severe wound.

Scott's bitten hand hung limply. Kyrano shuffled around, gently repositioning his head so that it rested against Jeff's shoulder rather than lolling limply and placing the unbitten hand to rest on his chest, far enough away from the wound it wouldn't bother it, but left the bitten hand dangling.

His son felt like a dead weight in his arms, and Jeff was reassured only by the mostly regular exhales of air tickling his neck as he watched Kyrano approach John, murmuring something quietly to him before gently manoeuvring him onto his back. John cried out in pain, stray sobs escaping as Kyrano's soft words continued evenly.

Scott made a noise of protest against his shoulder and Jeff glanced down at him to see he was frowning slightly; he didn't doubt for a moment that he was reacting to his younger brother's distress.

"Kyrano's got him, Scooter," he murmured. "Your brother's going to be okay, I promise." Scott made another noise of discontent but then fell silent.

"This way, Mr Tracy." Kyrano turned, John nestled in his arms not unlike a baby giraffe, all long and gangly limbs, although the image was somewhat ruined by the unnatural angles. The boy's eyes were closed entirely, and Jeff realised he must have passed out at last.

"Lead on, Kyrano."

Without the other man, he would never have found his way back. Torches were difficult to use when both arms were full of limp son, but Kyrano was sure-footed and confident in their route, unerringly guiding them back to the villa.

The light in Virgil's room was on, Jeff noticed as they approached. A silhouette stood in the window – no, two, three silhouettes.

_Four_. One stood slightly apart from the clump of three, slighter and a little bit shorter than the tallest.

Jeff didn't know which of the four watching children – it was the early hours of the morning, all of them should be fast asleep, not awake and worrying – saw them first. At some unseen signal, all four moved together, vanishing from the window, although the light stayed on.

"Scott! John!" The rapid patter of multiple bare feet announced the reappearance of them all in the kitchen, clamouring for the missing members of their family as Jeff and Kyrano entered.

"Virgil, take your brothers and Tanusha up to the den," Jeff ordered. He wanted them in bed asleep, but that was a command that would never be obeyed.

"But-" his son protested, eyes wide with horror as he spotted his older brothers, bloodstained and limp in his and Kyrano's arms.

"Please, Virgil," he said, glancing meaningfully at the white faces of Gordon and Alan. "Look after your brothers for me, just for a little while." Virgil hesitated, torn between his older and younger brothers, but Tanusha bent down and scooped Alan up with a grunt.

"Come on," she said, nudging Virgil with her shoulder as Alan continued to stare at his biggest brothers from her arms. Jeff couldn't wait for him to obey, all too aware that Scott was bleeding through his bandages and leaving a trail of small crimson drips from his hand. He and Kyrano hurried past the children, towards the room they'd been setting up as a medical room.

Thank goodness he'd already started stocking it with his project in mind. His mother, while not on the island currently, had had a large influence on the room, insistent that it be up to hospital standard. While they didn't yet have everything they planned to, they had enough.

Scott and John were its first two real patients. Leaving Kyrano to continue where he'd left off, Jeff fumbled for his phone, punching in a number he knew by heart and listening to it ring.

_Click_.

"Jeff? Isn't it two in the morning for you?"

"Mom, I need you."


	6. VI - Virgil

Virgil had some experience being the eldest; with both Scott and John firmly ensconced at university, corralling his two younger brothers was a skill he had been forced to master.

He'd never had to do it while his older brothers were in the house, though. Alan without fail always ran to Scott or John over him, and even though Gordon was trying to pretend he was all grown up and didn't _need_ his biggest brothers, he still sought them on occasion. Like tonight, and Virgil had never been more pleased to be passed over in favour of Scott. If Gordon had come to him, as he normally did, they wouldn't have realised he'd gone out, and-

Scott had looked almost dead when Dad had carried him in. John, limp in a jaggedly way that screamed _broken bones_ , hadn't looked much better in Kyrano's arms. Virgil knew that if they hadn't been found until morning, it could have been so much worse.

This island was supposed to be their new home. Home was supposed to be _safe_. This wasn't safe. Dad had warned them, but part of Virgil hadn't taken that too seriously – just stay nearby, don't wander off when Dad's watching, and they'd be fine. He knew Scott had been sneaking out, but he'd always come back perfectly fine.

Until now.

Virgil wouldn't be getting the white face of his brother, nor the worry in Dad's eyes, in a hurry.

"Virgil?"

He was still standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at where the adults had disappeared with his big brothers. A hand curled around his, wide, warm amber eyes staring up at him, but it wasn't Gordon that had spoken. Virgil blinked, tearing his eyes away from the empty space to meet the cool green of the only girl in the group. Alan was clinging to her tightly, and she was returning the grip in kind. Scott and John might not be her brothers by blood, but the Kyranos were still _family_ , and Virgil was unsurprised to see that she was shaking, eyes just a little too wide.

"Den," he managed, his voice cracking. Dad wanted them to go to the den. Virgil wanted to see his brothers, wanted to reassure himself that it wasn't as bad as it looked, but he had three younger siblings looking up to him right now. It was time to be the big brother and with jerking limbs he forced himself to leave the kitchen and climb the stairs, Gordon's hand still clenched firmly around his. He gripped it back tightly and the little brother that was too old for that sort of treatment any more pressed against his side.

They all piled onto a single sofa, Virgil shoulder to shoulder with Tanusha while Gordon and Alan scrabbled into their laps. He should do something, turn on the television, the radio, _anything_ to stop the silence encroaching, but he couldn't bring himself to move. They should maybe turn the lights on, too, rather than sitting in the dark, huddled together against the big bad world, but now that Virgil was sat down with a brother on his lap and a sister under his arm he didn't want to move. Didn't think he could, even if he tried.

"Are they going to be okay?" It was Alan who broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as though he was afraid to hear the answer. Virgil didn't reply – how could he, when all he could see were white faces etched with pain? He wanted them to be okay, _needed_ them to be fine when the sun rose, but he wasn't a child anymore. Dad and Kyrano had both looked terrified, and that scared Virgil more than anything else.

He'd never seen that look on their faces before, and he never wanted to see it again.

"It's Scott and John," Gordon said after several long minutes, clearly realising that Virgil had nothing he wanted to say. "They're our big brothers." That wasn't an answer, not when the world had already stripped them of their mother, but Alan was still young enough to take it as one regardless. One day he'd realise the world didn't care about their family, would take and take and _take_ no matter _who_ they were, but Virgil wasn't going to let it be today.

He shared a look with Tanusha, who shook her head minutely. She understood the cruelty of the world, too, but for all her brashness even she wouldn't ruin Alan's naivety. Not like this. Virgil hoped the world wouldn't force him to face it anyway.

It was still dark sometime later – Virgil didn't know how long, hadn't been counting the minutes - when Kyrano appeared in front of them, emerging from the darkness to crouch before their huddle. Alan had fallen asleep again, too young to maintain a night time vigil, and Gordon was drowsily tucked beneath Virgil's chin. Kyrano took all of that in with a single glance.

"How are they?" Virgil asked, his voice cracking again. "What happened?"

"They fell off a ledge," Kyrano informed him quietly. Gordon shifted, but Alan didn't stir. "John has a bad concussion. Both his legs are broken, as is his left arm, and his ribs are cracked, but that is nothing rest and time will not cure."

"And Scott?"

"Battered and bruised but only one rib broke in the fall," Kyrano began. Virgil knew that wasn't all – he'd seen the blood dripping to the floor. "At some point he was bitten by a snake, but the antivenom is working well so that is no longer a concern." He sighed, looking older than Virgil had ever seen him. "However, he landed on a solid piece of tree which ran him through. He was fortunate that it didn't impact any of his internal organs, but the blood loss is severe. Your grandmother will be here by dawn."

Virgil was grateful that the man knew better than to sugar coat or evade the topic. He'd been in enough hospitals with one accident prone brother or other to know that even as a teenager he was more likely to be humoured by the medical staff than given any straight answers. That didn't make it any easier to hear – both his brothers were severely injured and if _Grandma_ had been called, Dad and Kyrano didn't think they could handle it by themselves – but Virgil was glad for the information anyway.

"Can we see them?" he asked. Kyrano frowned.

"Mr Tracy did not say you could not," he began slowly. "But it will not be easy for you to see."

"Alan can stay-"

" _Any_ of you," he clarified. Virgil glared at him. "However, a disregard of adult advice is a dominant trait in the Tracy family, so I do not doubt that you will head there as soon as my back is turned. Therefore, I will accompany you on the condition that you do not stay long."

"I'll stay here with Alan," Tanusha said when Virgil nudged Gordon, getting the blond to slip off of his lap before standing up himself. Alan slumbered on, clinging to the girl. Kyrano nodded at her, and Virgil grabbed Gordon's hand before making his way towards the medical room.

He was scared of what he'd find inside, but he had to see them for his own eyes. Had to _know_. Next to him, Gordon let out a quiet whimper and pressed against him.

"Not for long," Kyrano reminded them, and they both nodded. The door slid open, revealing two occupied beds with their Dad sat between them.

The first thing Virgil noticed was that they looked peaceful, no doubt largely thanks to the thin tubes attaching them to drips. Painkillers, as well as nutrients and, in Scott's case, a second tube leading from a bag filled with red liquid.

Gordon pulled away from him and made a beeline for their Dad, who retracted his hand from where it had been stroking John's hair to envelope him in a hug. Virgil followed more slowly, unable to tear his eyes from Scott. He loved John, of course he did, but Scott was always the brother he'd been closest to, the one that had been there for all of his nightmares when the world got too much.

Scott's door was always open to him, and when he walked in, his brother was somehow always awake and waiting. Even that time he'd ended up in hospital, all drugged up on painkillers after he'd been knocked off his bicycle by a car and broke his arm in two places, he'd always been awake whenever Virgil had visited.

The fact that he wasn't awake now, that Virgil's entrance hadn't woken him up, was the final confirmation that Scott really wasn't okay. He stumbled over to the bed, barely evading the equipment surrounding it, and almost crashed into his father.

"Scott…"

Dad pulled him into the embrace with Gordon, holding both of them tightly, but Virgil couldn't look away from the still, unconscious, form of his eldest brother, even when his vision began to swim with tears he couldn't stop.

"Scott's a fighter," his father reminded him. Virgil nodded blindly. "He'll pull through."

A sob escaped his lips and he reached out, linking his fingers lightly with the tips of Scott's bandaged ones.

"Please wake up, Scotty," he begged. Behind him, he felt Gordon shift and knew that he was facing John. "We need you. _I_ need you."

Scott didn't react.


	7. VII - Alan

Alan didn’t notice when his bedroom door opened, barely wide enough for someone to slip through before closing again with the smallest of clicks. His head was buried in a game – _educational_ , because Dad only let him play educational games in his room – and the fact that he was no longer alone with the ancient Professor Layton didn’t occur to him until his bed dipped and someone groaned quietly.

He jumped, almost dropping the ancient console – something from Dad’s own childhood, passed down through brothers until it found the hands of the best gamer in the family – as he twisted to look at the uninvited intruder.

“Scott?”

“Shh!” his eldest brother hissed, before groaning again and gingerly laying down, spread-eagling himself across Alan’s fire engine red comforter.

Alan squinted at him, setting the old console down and turning around completely to face the brother stealing his bed.

“Should you be up?” he asked, and Scott gave a sheepish grin. “Scott, you’re hurt!” His brother winced and gently rested a hand over the pyjamas he wore, right where Alan knew he had several stitches, far too much medical glue, and multiple layers of gauze.

“I’m okay, Allie,” he said, patting the bed next to him with his other hand. Alan took the silent invitation to lay next to him – it was _his_ bed, why was Scott acting like he was in charge – and eyed him dubiously.

“Why aren’t you in the medical room?” he asked, frowning. “Grandma will be angry.” Scott winced.

“Grandma thinks I need to _eat_ ,” he shuddered. “ _Homemade_ food.”

Just the mention of homemade food when Grandma was around was enough for Alan to shudder, too. No wonder Scott had escaped.

“What about John?” he asked, and Scott paused for a moment before shaking his head.

“I couldn’t get him out,” he said. “But Grandma’s letting _him_ have proper food, not…” he trailed off, but Alan understood. They _all_ understood when it came to Grandma and food.

“Okay,” he said, and Scott cocked an eyebrow at him. “You can stay.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Scott grinned, wrapping an arm around him and gently pulling him close. “Best little brother.”

Alan glowed at the praise, even if he knew by now that they were all ‘best little brother’ when it suited Scott. Just like they were all his best big brother when they did what he wanted. It was still nice to hear.

The fact that Scott’s arm was shaking slightly was not so nice, and he frowned at his brother. Scott had closed his eyes again; his skin was still pale – paler than Alan’s, he realised when he put his hand on his forehead.

“I’m okay, Allie,” he mumbled, cracking a single eye open a sliver to peer at him. “Just tired.”

“Promise?” Alan remembered Dad carrying him in, blood dripping onto the floor. It had been a few days since then, but it still gave him nightmares. He hadn’t played any of his zombie games since.

“I promise.” His eye closed again and Alan watched as his breathing evened out, chest rising and falling steadily in sleep. Scott spent a lot of time sleeping now; Grandma said it was normal because he’d lost a lot of blood, but it worried Virgil so it worried Alan, just a little.

He curled up against Scott, careful not to get too close to anywhere he was hurt, game entirely forgotten in favour of watching him. Just to be sure.

There was a commotion outside, hurried footsteps passing past his door in both directions before someone knocked and he froze.

“Alan?” Dad called, pushing the door open. “Have you seen- ah, there you are.”

Alan made a shushing noise at him, and Dad smiled, making a show of walking into the room on tip-toe and silently closing the door behind him.

“Is he sleeping?” he asked, and Alan nodded. Dad padded across the room and sat on the edge of Alan’s bed, reaching out and brushing Scott’s hair back from his face. Scott didn’t react, and his smile looked just a little sad. “You can’t sleep here, Scooter; this is your brother’s bed,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” Alan said immediately, and Dad gave him a smile.

“I’m sure you don’t,” he agreed, “but Scott needs to stay in the medical room where your Grandma can keep an eye on him. I’m impressed he made it all the way up here.”

“He said Grandma was cooking,” Alan said, and got a chuckle.

“That would do it,” Dad nodded before standing back up. “Well, even I’m not cruel enough to subject Scott to that, so I’ll let him hide here for now. Don’t let him leave when he wakes up, though – he shouldn’t be walking around. I’ll fetch him later, when the threat’s gone.”

Alan nodded his agreement and watched Dad leave the room before settling back down with Scott, at least until he heard the voices.

“Have you found him?”

That was Grandma, and Alan tensed again. Dad understood, right? Dad wouldn’t make Scott eat _that_?

“He’s hiding in Alan’s room.” _What_? Now Grandma would come in and Scott would have to eat her cooking and he’d be miserable! How could he do that?

“He can’t hide forever,” she said. “He’ll have to face it eventually.”

“When he wakes up,” Dad promised. “Getting to Alan’s room exhausted him.”

“When he wakes up,” she agreed. “He can’t avoid John forever.”

Wait, what? Avoid _John_? Why would Scott want to avoid _John_? Wasn’t it Grandma’s cooking he was hiding from?

They moved away, leaving him sat on his bed with his biggest brother taking up most of the space. Alan looked at him, seeing how pale he looked, before coming to a decision. It was easy enough to find his spare blanket and drape it over Scott, tucking him in gently before padding out of his room and heading for the medical room.

John was sat up in bed, tablet propped up in front of him as he read whatever was on the screen. He looked up as Alan approached.

“Hey, Alan,” he greeted with a grin. Alan glanced over at Scott’s abandoned bed as he passed it, before perching on the chair next to his brother. John also looked at the bed for a moment, before setting the tablet down and facing him as best he could with three of his limbs in casts. “Is something wrong?”

“Grandma said Scott was avoiding you,” Alan blurted out, and John sighed.

“He is.”

“But…” Alan faltered, not expecting that response. Why would Scott avoid _John_? That didn’t make any sense.

“He’s got it into his head that this is all his fault,” John explained. “He blames himself even though it was my idea, and he’s avoiding me because he thinks that’ll keep me safe.”

“What? Why? _Scott_ keeps us safe!” Alan couldn’t imagine a world without Scott there to keep the nightmares away.

“Because he’s an idiot,” John sighed. “It doesn’t help that Dad had a go at him for exploring the paths when we were told not to. He’s grounded for two weeks after Grandma discharges him.”

“Scott’s in _trouble_?”

“Because he disobeyed me. John is also grounded.” Alan jumped when Dad started talking – he hadn’t noticed him. “Is Scott still in your room, Alan?” He nodded. “Well if he’s going to sleep he might as well do it here.” Alan watched him leave before turning to John.

“But… Grandma’s cooking..?” John chuckled lightly.

“The one thing she can make is hospital food,” he assured him. “The soup she’s feeding Scott is perfectly edible and he knows it.”

“Oh.” Scott had _lied_.

“He’s just upset about what happened,” John continued. “Don’t worry about it.”

When Dad walked back in a few minutes later, Scott was still covered in Alan’s spare blanket.

“Do you think Scott can borrow it a while longer?” the man asked as he gently lay a still sleeping Scott back on the bed.

“Will it help?” Alan asked, and he nodded. “Then yes.” He reached over and straightened it out over his brother again. Scott let out a small groan and Dad backed away.

“That’s my cue to leave,” he said. “Alan, could you stay with your brothers for me?” He nodded, and the man left the room.

Barely a minute later, Scott’s eyes opened. They landed on John and immediately snapped shut again with another groan.

“Scott?”

He opened his eyes again.

“Allie?”

“Don’t avoid John,” Alan said immediately, watching blue eyes widen. “You’re his big brother! You can’t ignore him.”

“I got him hurt, Alan,” Scott protested. He started to sit up, then made a face and lay back down again. “It’s my fault.”

“I’m the one that wanted to go out to see the stars,” John argued.

“I should have stopped you!”

“If I wasn’t going to listen to Dad, why would I listen to you?”

Eyes wide, Alan looked between his two brothers. Both of them looked agitated, confined to their beds by their injuries but with a point to prove.

Scott opened his mouth a couple of times but no sound came out.

“Scott, whose blanket are you holding?” John challenged, and Alan watched as Scott looked at it, running the edge of the fabric through his fingers.

“Alan’s?” Scott looked at him, surprised, and Alan shrugged. “Why?”

“So you didn’t get cold,” Alan told him, and Scott softened, smiling at him.

“Thanks, Allie.”

“You _know_ it wasn’t your fault,” John continued. “If you honestly thought you were a _danger_ to me, you would never have run to _Alan_ , would you?”

“Hey!” Alan wasn’t entirely sure what John meant by that, but why wouldn’t Scott go to him? He was his brother too, right?

Scott heaved a huge sigh, and Alan looked at him in surprise.

“Stop being sensible and _right,_ ” he grumbled, but without any malice.

“I’ll stop when you don’t need me to,” John retorted, but he was smiling.

“Hush you,” Scott muttered. “C’mere, Allie.” He extended his hand and Alan took it, letting his biggest brother draw him closer. “This is your blanket so share it with me, okay?”

Alan wasn’t entirely sure what was going on anymore. Scott and John seemed to have just solved an argument but he didn’t understand what it had been about or _how_ it had been solved.

“You’re not going to avoid John anymore?” he asked, stopping just short of the bed, and Scott shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he promised. “Come up here?”

“Okay.” Alan climbed onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and curling up under the blanket with his biggest brother. It was warm and comfy and _safe_ , and even though it wasn’t bedtime he found himself getting sleepy.

“It looks like they’ve sorted themselves out,” he thought he heard Grandma say some time later. Dad laughed.

“As if they’d have it any other way,” he replied. A hand brushed his hair lightly. “Sleep well, boys. Look after each other.”

Of course they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's all for Sensory Sunday! The challenge has been fun, and I'm somewhat sad that it's over, but that just means it's time to move onto something new... or maybe go back to some of my wips I've been neglecting for the past month. Whoops.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Tsari

**Author's Note:**

> We're not quite done with Gumnut's SensorySunday yet! For a bonus round, we've got the elusive Sixth Sense to round off the challenge!


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